


A Trial of Senses

by MrsRen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, F/M, Smut, blizzard, trapped together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 10:26:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16721571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRen/pseuds/MrsRen
Summary: Like so many others, Hermione finds herself in Hogwarts once more to repeat her last year. It's not going like she planned. Not with her breakup with Ron Weasley, not with giving up the title of Head Girl since she believes her time as passed, and especially not when she is trapped with Draco Malfoy in the middle of a record setting blizzard.





	A Trial of Senses

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the readers who chose to nominate me for the 2018 D/Hr Christmas Advent. It was an honor, and I enjoyed the experience so much! Thank you to my beta who I will name after reveals.

 

 

Hermione glanced out over the throng of students who could hardly wait to make their way down to the village. Heaving a sigh, and turning over a letter in her hands, she nodded to Michael Corner, mouthing that she would catch up to him in the village momentarily. The letter was more of a note, and it was just one in the latest string of short, scribbled messages from Ron.

 

_Hermione, it’s been six weeks. Can’t you forgive me? I hate walking around when I know you’re still angry._

 

A few short sentences was all it took to put her in a bad mood. They had broken up, but it hadn’t been an amicable split. Setting fire to the parchment with a quiet _Incendio_ Hermione didn’t lift her eyes to meet McGonagall’s gaze. Yet she could feel the woman’s stare settling on her, and she pushed away from the table before the newly appointed headmistress could voice a gentle reminder that all prefects should make their way down to the village.

 

The shiny, scarlet Gryffindor pin that was fastened to her scarf glinted in the light as she wrapped it around her neck. Just like always, her eyes drifted toward Ginny, who wore the enamel pin with the title of Head Girl that Hermione had sought after for all of her time at Hogwarts.

 

She wasn’t angry with Ginny; it left a bitter taste in her mouth, but Hermione had passed on the honor, claiming the time for her had come and gone. This was meant to be the youngest Weasley’s last term of Hogwarts, and she could dare say the girl had earned the esteemed title. If Headmistress McGonagall hadn’t requested Hermione to remain a prefect, she would have gone through the year quietly, but as fate would have it, Hermione Granger couldn’t turn down the chance to be in charge.

 

Corner was waiting for her right outside the castle, leaning against the stone wall with a ridiculous smirk on his face.

 

“No,” Hermione said immediately, tugging her wool scarf over her mouth. Her teeth chattering, she continued as he fell into step beside her. “Michael, please don’t even think about it.”

 

“Oh, come on, Hermione. Grab a butterbeer with me.” He bumped his shoulder against hers, having to bend slightly to do so, and she glared at him. “I’ll wear you down eventually, you know.” He laughed, shoving his hands into his pockets as they brought up the back of the crowd of students.

 

“No, you really won’t,” she replied, stretching up to catch the sight of two third years already wrestling in the snow. “They’re fooling around, aren’t they?” Hermione asked, laughing under her breath.

 

He nodded. “I’m sure if they were truly fighting, they would be using their wands. Hermione, please?”

 

She stopped in her tracks, the snow crunching beneath her boots. Arching an eyebrow, she looked him over. “I don’t know why you’re so absorbed with the idea of this, Michael. Maybe it’s because I keep saying no, but I’m not interested in dating, or whatever.” She shrugged. Her voice was muffled by her scarf, and the wind that was ripping past them. “And I’m not going to distract you from your break up with Cho either.”

 

“Still asking our Hermione out?” Seamus clapped Michael on the back as he came from the castle. She hadn’t even heard him moving behind them. “That’s never going to happen.” He laughed before continuing on.

 

Her cheeks heating up, she just motioned toward Hogsmeade. “We should probably get down there,” Hermione told him, clearing her throat. “They should have canceled this weekend. This is shaping up to be the worst snowstorm in years.”

 

“What’s the worst that could happen?” He said, surly, and already moving past her after being embarassed by Seamus.

 

If she had learned absolutely anything, it was that it was never wise to tempt fate.

* * *

 

Without Harry, and Ron to hang out with for the ‘eighth year’ as everyone called it, she’d been certain this was the year she would finally have some peace. There was no Voldemort coming back each year, though she was wary of saying _that_ outloud. Dark wizards were still trying to murder her best friend, granted, but they were rogue Death Eaters, and there was a task force to catch them.

 

She wasn’t silly enough to think it would be a boring night in Hogsmeade. With it being so close to Christmas - students would board the Hogwarts Express on Monday - every student, or faculty member was in good spirits. At least it wasn’t last year, they would say.

 

Flicking through books in a shop while she had a break from patrolling, she let the faux smile slip from her face. It wasn’t as if it were the first holiday she would spend without her family, and there would be several more to come, so she supposed she’d better get used to it. It made her physically nauseous to think that her parents would never remember her, and that there was a hole in her chest the size of Australia.

 

“Come off it, Malfoy,” a voice hissed on the other side of the bookcase, and she froze, her fingers tight around a leather bound novel. “What makes you think that you can boss me around anymore? Sod off.”

 

Carefully pulling out another book from the shelf, and keeping her breathing level, Hermione peeked through the small opening to see Goyle opposite of Malfoy. The blond looked ragged, his hair disheveled, and his cheeks tinged pink.

 

He looked furious, she realized, when she looked at his eyes. Utterly stormy, and his hands were curled into fists at his sides. “Goyle, you cannot slip your girlfriend a lust potion,” Malfoy snarled. “She’s your bloody girlfriend of two weeks. Millie will sleep with you when she wants to.”

 

She stomped down the urge to scream exactly what she thought of that when Goyle began to turn away from Malfoy. “It’s not hurting anything, this potion.”She watched as he shook the dainty vial, it’s contents sloshing around inside of it. “It wouldn’t work if she didn’t want to shag,” he declared, and in his voice it was completely clear that he thought it made all of it acceptable.

 

Hermione dropped the books in her hands, storming around the shelf, and pulling her wand from her coat pocket. Malfoy was the first to notice her, his eyes widening, and his pale brows nearly shooting into his hairline. “What is wrong with you?” she snapped, pointing her wand at Goyle, and it was less than an inch away from the tip of his nose. Comically, he looked a lot like Malfoy had in third year. “A lust potion does not equal consent!” Hermione growled, already halfway through the motion to shook a Bat Bogey Hex at the Slytherin, but the rocking of the shop’s foundation stopped her.

 

The lights flickered twice before going out completely, and Hermione looked up at the loud creaking sound. The book shelf she’d just hidden behind was toppling forward. “Granger, get out of the way!” Malfoy told her. “Merlin’s bollocks,” he grumbled when she didn’t make a move, and he grabbed her himself, wrapping an arm tightly around her waist.

 

He might have gotten them out of the way in time if the chandelier hadn’t snapped from it’s fixture, and smashed against the hard wooden flooring beside them. “Malfoy,” Hermione squeaked as she took in the blood seeping through his white oxford, “you’re -”

 

“Keep your head down,” he ordered, and she realized that the events only seemed to be moving slowly when really the world seemed to be crashing down. Malfoy tucked her head in below his chin, and then she was pinned to the floor by his hard body, and the bookshelf that he had taken the brunt force of.

 

Shattered glass from the crystal laid beside them, and she sliced her thumb on a piece of it as she reached out. “Malfoy?” she whispered.

 

He groaned, the wood above them creaking as he placed his palms against the floor and pushed the shelf of with his back. “Crawl out,” he told her.

 

“Stop, you’ll only injure yourself even more,” she scolded, fumbling for her wand...which she found, but it was snapped in half. “Bollocks.” Tears welled up in her eyes, but she kept her head down so he wouldn’t see them roll down her face. _My fucking wand._

 

“Language, Granger.” He smirked. “Crawl out. My wand is locked up in McGonagall’s office, so unless you think you can pick this up on your own...” Malfoy trailed off.

 

Hermione nodded, moving onto her hands and knees to crawl out from under the debris. “Dammit,” She whimpered, cradling her hand as she made it out. She’d cut it open on the shards still on the floor, and she stared down at the wide gash. “Are you -?” She stopped, watching him hold up the shelf while walking backward over the books. “Those are probably ruined now.”

 

He snorted. “Well, forgive me, Granger for saving your life instead of the books.” Malfoy looked at her _just_ to roll his eyes.

 

“What in Merlin’s name happened?” Hermione asked quietly. She looked over the shop. The rest of it was nearly untouched save for the major damage in front of them. “I guess Goyle got out.”

 

He ran his fingers through his hair, nodding. “I saw him run for the door when I grabbed you. I somehow doubt he’ll be coming back to check on us.”

 

“Right you are. You need to see Madam Pomfrey as soon as possible for that -” She pointed to his side, where scarlet was already blossoming in the fine threads of his button down “- and also that,” Hermione added, staring at his shoulder. “The chandelier and the bookshelf hitting you at once must have -”

 

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m quite alright, Granger. It’s nothing worse than other injuries I’ve had thanks to Saint Potter.”

 

“I never agreed with the Sectumsempra curse,” Hermione blurted out, clasping her hands in front of her as he moved past her.

 

Glancing back at her, he bit his lip, presumably at the memory. “Well, I meant quidditch related injuries because he’s an arsehole seeker, but thank you for the memory. Let’s go; I don’t want to spend anymore time with you than I have to.”

 

Hermione grumbled at that, but didn’t voice her opinion of him as she followed him to the exit. “Thank you for saving me,” she ground out, not meeting his gaze.

“Letting you be crushed wouldn’t be the worth the Ministry inquiry,” he replied, yanking on the door. “What the -?” Malfoy pulled harder on the door this time, but it didn’t come loose. “Oh, no.”

 

“What’s wrong? The storm probably -”

 

He held up a hand - well, shoving his open palm into her face was more accurate. “Go try the back exit, and tell me if you can get it open,” he told her, placing his foot flat against the door trim as he moved to attempt wrenching the door open again. “What are you standing there for? _Go._ ”

 

Flinching at his sharp tone, Hermione made her way to the back of the shop before she could tell him to go to hell. The brass door knob was icy against her hand, and she tugged lightly, but it didn’t budge. “What the -?” she hissed, yanking harder, but the only thing she was successful in was ripping the knob from the door itself. “Shite.”

 

Hermione turned around to meet Malfoy at the front of the store, where she just held up the now broken doorknob as her answer. “What’s happening?” Hermione asked him, tossing the useless part onto the counter.

 

“It’s the blizzard.” He sighed. “It fucks with ley lines, and now we’re stuck here. When it gets this bad, it’s normal for the stores to shut in on themselves.” He motioned to the black curtains. Stepping forward, he pulled them back, and she took in the sight of absolutely nothing where she should have seen the street of Hogsmeade. “It’s a type of ward to keep things out.”

 

“Yet it won’t let anything, or anyone out?” She gasped, lifting her fingers to her mouth. “I should have just gone for butterbeer with Michael, but no.” Hermione laughed miserably to herself. “Everyone else will be back at the castle, won’t they?”

 

He nodded slowly. “Even if they weren’t, it wouldn’t do us any good. Not even the staff could get us out. We’ll be trapped her until this subsides.” He folded his arms across his chest.

 

Dropping her face into her hands, she groaned. “This is not good.” As she glanced up at him again, she realized his face haf drained of colour, and he was staring at the floor. “Malfoy?”

 

He clenched his jaw. “It’s about to get worse,” he muttered, waving his hand toward where the chandelier had been smashed to the floor. “Goyle didn’t take the fucking potion with him,” Malfoy snarled, and she looked down in horror to see the familiar scarlet vial, crushed, and the liquid rolling toward them, the ingredients seeping into the wood.

 

“At least you weren’t stuck with Goyle under the effects of a lust potion?” Hermione joked, swallowing and sobering up when he glared at her.

* * *

 

Malfoy sat on the far side of the room from her, resting his elbows on his knees while hanging his head. “What were you even doing in here? Shouldn’t a prefect have been patrolling?” He sneered, raising a hand to rake his fingers through his hair.

 

She glanced up, knocking her shoes together. “I was avoiding Michael Corner,” Hermione answered truthfully. “He wanted to me to join him for a butterbeer.” She shrugged. “I’m sure we’ll be fine, Malfoy. McGonagall will send someone to find us in the morning.”

 

The blond gaped at her. “You must be joking. Surely that old hag would send someone to find us immediately.”

 

She laughed, looking away from him as she tied her hair up. “If it’s as you say, and the blizzard is as treacherous as you say..then she wouldn’t. It would be a danger to the staff she send.” Hermione gave another shrug. “Besides that, we’ll be fine.”

 

Malfoy snorted. “What the fuck do you mean _we’ll be fine,_ Granger, there is a powerful aphrodisiac that’s in the middle of us. We can’t even escape it in a confined space, and you’re barmy if you think I’m going to shag you.”

 

She blinked, her head tilting to the side. “I don’t plan on shagging you, Malfoy. Not even a potion could cause that.”

 

“He was wrong about how it wouldn’t work on Millie if she didn’t want it, Granger. I know Gregory Goyle better than nearly everyone, and I promise you that if he brewed it - it’s going to affect us.”

 

Her eyes widened. In truth, she hadn’t even thought of the outcome of a mistake in the brewing, a mistake that would have her feeling too hot, and too confined in her clothes. “Bollocks,” Hermione muttered under her breath. “It’ll be fine. You’ll just stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine.”

 

He barked out a harsh laugh. “So, Corner then? If we’re stuck together, we might as well talk about something that will prevent my dick from getting hard, and that bossy Ravenclaw will do the trick.”

 

Rolling her eyes at his crassness, Hermione nodded. “Ever since Ronald and I broke up, he’s asked me to every Hogsmeade weekend. I’ve used patrolling to get out of most of his advances.” Nudging a piece of glass across the floor, she offered nothing else to further the conversation.

 

“He won’t get the point,” Malfoy drawled, arching an eyebrow. “He’s pushy.”

 

She was already hot around her collar, already tugging at it, and he was mirroring the movement. Heat pooled between her thighs, and after glancing up to see him biting his lower lip, Hermione ripped her gaze away. “How did you find out Goyle was going to-?” She squeaked as he slid closer to her, his leg brushing hers as he did.

 

Drawing a heavy breath, he rasped, “Who fucking cares about how this happened?” His fingers twitched toward her, and for a moment she thought he was going to grip her upper thigh. “Conversation won’t help.”

 

Her eyes widened. “Why not?”

 

Malfoy regarded her with a scathing look as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Because even when you’re talking about Corner, all I can think of is how easy it would be to shut you up by snogging you.”

 

She fell into silence, aside from a barely-there whimper that escaped her. The wind roared outside as she stared back at him. “You would hate yourself if you let this happen,” Hermione whispered, and even hinting at how he loathed her, particularly her blood status, didn’t stop him from leaning forward.

 

Though there was a voice rattling around in the back of her head, desperately pleading for her _not_ to lean forward, it was exactly what she found herself doing.

 

Until there was a loud crash against the outside walls of the shop, and Hermione snapped back to reality. Scrambling away from him, her eyebrows shot into her hairline. Her breath came is short gasps, her chest rising and falling with each shallow exhale. “Malfoy,” she murmured, her hand flying to her heart where she could feel the erratic beat beneath her fingertips. “Surely we can make it until morning without ripping the others clothes off.”

 

He smirked, but it wasn’t the cruel curve of his lips she saw as they passed the other in the corridors. “The storm could rage on for days, Granger.”

 

Her mouth dried. She knew it was useless to fight the urges, but to give in so easily...

 

“What would you do?” Hermione whispered, and she would have sworn she could hear her own heart pounding as she took in the sight of him.

 

So clearly disheveled, his hair a mess already, his cheeks tinged with color, but it was his hands that drew her attention the most. They were clenched, balled into fists as he set back against the sales counter. “I’d rather show you,” he rumbled.

 

Hermione nearly nodded. “Tell me,” she asked again, crawling closer to him. Carefully avoiding the the bits of glass they’d missed, she sat on her knees in front of him. “I’m naturally curious.”

 

“I’d kiss you, but I’d make you wait for it,” he told her. “Have you ever experienced what it’s like to feel that anticipation? Did Weasley make the first time about you, and spend every chance afterward attempting to outdo himself?”

 

“No...he kissed me in the middle of the final battle. We thought we were going to die, and then it fizzled,” Hermione admitted, tilting her head to the side. “Viktor kissed me once, but I thought it was too rough, and there was no anticipation.”

 

He didn’t lunge for her, which was what took her by surprise. He reached for her, threading his fingers into her hair. Tugging her closer with her still on her knees, he kissed her. His lips slanted against hers, tongue tracing the seam of her lips; she melted into him.

 

Sighing quietly and gripping his shirt in her hands, Hermione leaned into him. Deepening the kiss as she was overtaken by wanting _more_ , she barely noticed he’d moved her when her back was pressed to the floor. Glass shattered around them -  it looked like an awful scene. The storm howling outside, she didn’t pay it any mind as he hitched her leg around his hip.

 

She whined when he pulled away, his lips red, slightly swollen, he chuckled. “Who taught you how to snog, Granger?”

 

Arching her brow, she pulled him back to her. “Is that a question you’d really like an answer to?” she asked, peering up at him.

 

“Bound to make me jealous.” And then there were no more words, only the rustling of fabric as his chest was against hers. Until she grew a little more bold, a little more adventurous, and cupped his erection through his trousers. “Unless you want me to fuck you, I wouldn’t do that,” he rasped.

 

She felt like she was burning as she looked up at him through hooded eyes. “I don’t want to have sex with you,” Hermione admitted, thought the effects of the potion were strong, she was clinging to last scrap of her self control. “But I want something.” She writhed against him, inadvertently brushing against his hard cock once more.

 

Malfoy dropped his head to the crook of her neck, dragging his tongue along the heated flesh. “What did you have in mind?”

 

“We could,” her voice broke into a gasp as he bit her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark that wouldn’t allow her to forget this. “We could pleasure ourselves,” she managed.

 

“Seeing you play with your pink cunt will only make me want you more.”

 

She whimpered at the filthy words. “I’m hanging on to my rational thinking for as long as I can.”

 

He stood, helping her to her feet as he did so. “Alright.”

 

It was not a situation she could have even imagined. Hermione unwrapped her scarf from her neck, tossing it onto the counter. Unbuttoning her shirt as Malfoy did the same, she missed a button as she stared at his pale chest he revealed inch by inch.

 

She was already regretting saying she didn’t want anything. _But you don’t! You would never sleep with Malfoy!_ “Merlin,” she muttered under her breath, pushing her jeans down her hips. Sliding to the floor, she sat against the counter. The wood was cool against her back, and as he sat barely an inch away from her, she fought the urge to crawl into his lap.

 

Malfoy wasn’t as shy as her. No, he’d discarded his trousers, and his boxers.

 

Hermione’s lips parted as he gripped his cock, slowly pumping. She reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, and slid out of her knickers. Her shoulder brushed against his as she spread her legs, her hand sliding down her belly as she rubbed her clit. The tiniest of moans slipped out of her mouth, and she slid one finger into her wet folds. “Fuck.”

 

He murmured how he couldn’t stand it, and turned her head to kiss her again. His hands not touching her, Malfoy left it open to where she could make the first move - if she wanted.

 

“I can’t stand it,” Hermione whimpered.

 

He broke away from her a moment, leaning his forehead against hers. “Should let me take care of you,” he murmured.

 

She nodded, but let her self doubt lead her words. “I can’t.”

 

Malfoy lifted her onto his lap, fingers tracing her spine while she cupped his face. Kissing him roughly, she rolled her hips against him, his cock sliding between her folds. “What if we’re stuck here for days?”

 

“Then I’ll fuck you for days,” he growled, capturing her nipple with his teeth. Rolling the sensitive nub harshly, his fingers dug into the soft skin of her hips.

 

Gasping, sliding her fingers through soft strands of hair, Hermione collapsed against him. His hands the only thing holding her up, she wiggled in his lap. “Draco,” she whimpered as he swatted her arse, a light pink mark surely spreading across her cheek. “You’re teasing.”

 

He smirked, gripping her hair and pulling her head back as he kissed her exposed neck. “We have plenty of time since we’ll be stranded for the foreseeable future.” He chuckled. “Would you rather I just take you without any -”

 

“I’ve had about enough anticipation as I can take,” Hermione snapped, yanking his hair hard, and reaching between them. Wrapping her fingers around his hard cock, she positioned herself over it, the head barely brushing her cunt. “Draco?” she whispered.

 

He nodded, burying his hand in her hair and kissing her. Nibbling her bottom lip as she took him inch by inch, her much smaller frame shuddering against him. “Fuck,” he growled, and he thrust into her. “Fucking Merlin,” Malfoy hissed, tangling his fingers in her hair.

 

She was short of breath, her nails scratching his shoulders as he guided her by the hips. “Draco,” she whispered into his ear, looping her arms around his neck. “Harder,” Hermione whimpered, muffling her cries as she leaned into him. Murmuring how she felt impossibly full, a statement that had him flipping her onto her back and driving into her even harder.

 

It was everything - him speaking to her in low tones of how tightly she was wrapped around his cock, and how soft her skin was pressed against his hard body, and -“Yes,” he hissed, “make that sweet sound again for me, Hermione.”

 

And then it was nothing - just him pushing her over the edge as he dipped his head toward her breasts, and placed his fingers between her thighs.

* * *

 

The storm lasted thirty eight hours, and it was forty one hours before she was back in Gryffindor Tower. It was another day before she would even come out of said dorms, coming up with the excuse that she must have caught a cold.

 

It was just that coming face to face with Draco Malfoy was the last thing she wanted to do. Her thighs still ached, there was still multiple love bites on her throat, and she would have to confront the notion there might be lingering feelings. Purely a physical thing, Hermione reminded herself...

 

The morning of the second day, she dragged herself out of bed. It wouldn’t do for a prefect, especially her, to be missing classes, and a coward she was not.

 

The day passed quickly, and she was making her way to Charms, her robes skimming the floor. Neville had gone ahead of her to catch Hannah, a wide grin splitting his face. Unfortunately, it meant there was no one around to see the pale hand that shot out from an alcove and yanked her into it.

 

“Stop fucking hitting me,” he hissed, letting go of her, and blocking the exit. “I just want to talk to you.”

 

She glared at him, tearing her hand free. “I don’t have anything to say, Malfoy.”

 

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We were wrong, Granger. You would have known it if you’d bothered to grace us with your presence in Potions yesterday.”

 

Hermione blinked, tilting her head to the side. “What are you going on about?” Stepping toward him, into the curve of his body really, she asked again, “What is it?”

 

“Goyle brewed a botched potion. What was in the vial was a sample for the Amortentia we brewed on Friday,” he murmured, staring over the top of her head.

 

She shook her head. “Amortentia? It was the wrong colour.”

 

He snorted, dragging his fingertips up her arm through her robes. “Well, it _was_ Goyle who brewed it. We were never under the effects of a lust potion.” At her quiet intake of breath, he looked down at her. “Our actions,” his breathing hitched, “were made of our own volition. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

 

Hermione nodded. “We could ignore it, pretend it never happened. To be fair we _did_  think we were trapped with a lust potion.” Ever the rational one, Hermione assumed that would be his opinion as well, and turned to leave.

 

Malfoy caught her by the crook of her elbow, gently pulling her back to him. “Let me kiss you one more time. Just so we can see if it was merely a trick of our minds,” he said softly, coaxing her. His features were relaxed, softened.

 

Hermione was pretty sure it wasn’t only a trick on her part, and she didn’t like the sound of being rejected. She swallowed thickly before nodding. “One kiss,” she muttered. Quick to cast a disillusionment charm, Hermione placed her hands on his forearms. “So -”

 

Draco backed her into the wall, cupping her face as he bent down to kiss her. It wasn’t rushed as it had been over the weekend. Not hurried in any sense as he slowly took his time with her, tracing the seam of her lip with his tongue - a move that was well practiced indeed. His hands didn’t stray, not like she expected them to.

 

Pleased to see he was breathing heavily as he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against hers, she couldn’t help but press her lips to his again. It only lasted a second before she leaned back against the wall.

 

When he opened his eyes, her heart rattled in her ribcage. “I’m aware we did this backward, but there’s another trip to Hogsmeade this weekend,” he murmured, curling his finger and lifting her chin with his knuckle. “Do you have any plans?”

 

A slow smirk spread across her face. “Well,” she began, “Michael Corner asked me this morning.” At his arched brow, she rolled his eyes. “Hogsmeade sounds nice, but for the love of Godric, I am not going into another store with you lest we get trapped.”

 

“I happen to think you enjoyed being trapped with me. Maybe you’ve thought about it as much as I have.” Draco chuckled as her cheeks heated up.

 


End file.
